


Yes, And

by kind-of-always-late (intransient_adventure)



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4714067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intransient_adventure/pseuds/kind-of-always-late
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosima makes the mistake of agreeing to take an improv class with Alison that meets in the back room of  a local French bakery. Originally a (late) submission for OBFrankenfics 168 Hour Fic Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, And

**Author's Note:**

> 168 Hour Fic Challenge Details:  
> Prop: A Polaroid Camera with only 5 negatives left - submitted by 324b213 (on tumblr)  
> Dialogue: “We’re going to do an experiment” submitted by maryvancity (on tumblr)  
> Genre: Romantic Comedy  
> Location: An Improv Class

It all started, she supposed, when she said yes.

 _Why_ exactly she agreed to this, she’d never quite know. It’s not like she really had any sort of obligation – apart from owing Alison a fairly massive favor on account of the whole currently-shacking-up-in-her-guestroom-thing – but she didn’t understand why it had to be repaid in this particular manner. Still, she supposed she’d never quite realized how subtly _persuasive_ Alison could be. To be honest, had always thought of her as a pushover of sorts. But still, somehow she had managed to convince her. 

“Alison, this is ridiculous,” Cosima grumbled from where she sat reclined on the couch. “I’m fine. I don’t need to, like ‘get out more’ or whatever.”

Alison plopped a basket of laundry on the floor beside the table and seated herself on the chair just across from Cosima.

“Oh, you get out _plenty_ lately, I know,” she responded as calmly as she could, primly folding clothes. “I’m the one who has to hear you when you come crashing in at goodness knows when every evening! And I’m also the one who has to worry about you when you don’t come home at all. It’s not a healthy way to cope.”

She was using her _mom_ voice again, as she’d been wont to do more and more often as of late. Cosima couldn’t stand it. At first, Alison had left her mostly alone. At first, she’d been nothing but quietly helpful. But now? Now she was beginning to work her way under Cosima’s skin.  
  
“I’m not _coping_ – I’m _celebrating_. There’s a difference. I’m fine.”  
  
“Fine! Yes, you’re fine,” Alison snapped back sarcastically. “You catch your girlfriend cheating on you – your girlfriend that you claim you’d been _planning_ to break up with – you catch her cheating, she begs you for forgiveness, and then two days later she tries to _propose_. To propose!” Alison scoffed at that, physically waving the notion away with an indignant flick of her hand. “And you move out, leaving her the apartment, and end up here with Donnie and me. Of _course_ you’re fine. I can’t imagine why I might have thought otherwise.”  
  
“Alison, it was two months ago,” Cosima countered, annoyed. “And you just said it! I was planning to break up with her anyway. It wasn’t a big deal.”  
  
“Mmm-hmmm,” Alison responded with pursed lips. “Whatever you say, Cosima. All I know is that since you’ve moved into our guestroom you’ve been out nearly every night, drinking and heaven knows what else and… _screwing_ all sorts of random people. It’s not healthy.”  
  
“What?! I haven’t… how would you even know that?”  
  
“Felix,” she responded simply. “Who, for the record, also thinks you should take this class with me.”

Cosima stewed, making a mental note to berate Felix later.  
  
“Okay, so maybe I’m not totally fine. But I’m handling it. Whatever,” she protested, annoyed. “And I really don’t see what good this is gonna do. I mean, improv? I don’t, like, do theatre. I’m not good with that sort of thing.” 

“It will be good for you,” Alison assured her. “It’s either this or a scrapbooking class. The scrapbooking class meets at the local youth center and the improv class meets in the backroom of that café on West Elm. You can take your pick. Here, now help me fold these,” she finished, scooping up a pile of clothes and dropping them on top of Cosima.  
  
“Hey!” she exclaimed, sitting up and brushing the clothes off of her.  
  
“Cosima, those are clean! Don’t get them on the floor,” Alison scolded.  
  
Cosima shot her a threatening glance as she scooped the garments off the ground and dropped them on the couch next to her.  
  
“Ugh, okay. Fine,” she said, leaning back on the couch. “ _Yes_. I’ll go to your stupid class.”  
  
She picked up a shirt to fold, and Alison gave her a self-satisfied smile.  
  
But now, standing in a circle of strange suburban folk who were all spinning around and shouting “bippety bippety bop!” at one another as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Cosima found herself seriously questioning her initial aversion to the scrapbooking class. Improv was… _strange_ , to say the least.

Half an hour in, and already she had been subjected to a game of slow motion tag, a few rounds of duck duck goose, and to the unraveling of a giant human knot.  
  
“Okay, class,” Alexander, the instructor, announced. His garish appearance and theatrical demeanor seemed to Cosima a sad attempt to overcompensate for the lack of professional facilities. His class did, after all, meet in the back room of a suburban bakery. 

“Since many of you are new to the class today, we’ll just focus on warm-up games for the remainder of the class period,” he continued. He spoke as if he were speaking to a room full of children: with an excess of enthusiasm laced with a modicum of condescension. “Next class, assuming I feel that you are all ready for it, we will move on to improvised scene work.”  
  
_Great_ , Cosima thought. _That’s gonna make it a hell of a lot harder to just disappear into the background. Fuck._  

She wondered how many more of these classes Alison would insist that she take. At least next time she knew that she would need to smoke a _lot_ more weed beforehand. She suffered through a few more “warm-up games,” as Alexander called them, before they were finally released. Cosima couldn’t decide if the encouraging looks Alison kept trying to shoot her made matters slightly more tolerable or so very much worse.  
  
“Great work today, everyone!” Alexander oozed, readjusting his completely unnecessary scarf with a flourish. “As I said before, next week we’ll begin with some short improvised scene work, and later on we’ll begin to experiment with some long form games.”  
  
Alexander wasn’t halfway through his closing speech before Cosima had slipped away and snagged her jacket from off of a nearby chair. Perhaps she could get away before she had to talk to any of these –

“Oooo, Cosima!” a chirpy, rather rotund woman squealed as she descended upon her and clasped her hands in an enthusiastic vice-grip.  
  
“Umm… hi there?” Cosima responded, trying her best at a warm smile. She landed instead somewhere closer to a stiff, lopsided grin, but the woman didn’t seem to notice.  
  
“I’m Sarah Stubbs! It’s so, _so_ nice to meet you,” she gushed. “Ali has told me just so much about you. Did you have fun today? Alexander is just _amazing_ , isn’t he?”  
  
“Oh, umm... yeah. It was great!” Cosima tried another smile, but the force of Sarah Stubbs’ enthusiasm seemed to be quashing any of her own. She began to scan the room for any sign of Alison.  
  
“And Ali is just a treasure, isn’t she? So, _so_ talented. I can’t wait to see what you can show us! That talent must run in the family, hm?”  
  
“Umm, yeah… totally,” Cosima agreed absently, finally making eye contact with Alison from across the room. _Save me_ , she pleaded silently, but Alison only shot her a sympathetic glance.  
___________________________________________

“So, what did you think?” Alison asked her as they crossed through the front of the café, finally free of the overwhelming enthusiasm of Sarah Stubbs.  
  
“It was, ummm… weird? Kind of felt like elementary school or something.”  
  
“Yes, exactly! It’s all about reconnecting with your sense of _play_ , Cosima. We tend to lose that as adults, you know. Improvisation and acting can help us relearn that. It helps us learn how to accept things, how to say yes.”  
  
“Yeah, okay… I get that. I do. But still, I’m not really sure this is for me, Alison. I’m not, like, good at thinking on my feet like that.”  
  
“Oh, Cosima. Just give it a few more tries. I promise it gets better! We only did the warm-ups today. Next class we’ll start with the scene work, and that’s much more interesting. Just give it a chance.”  
  
“I don’t know, Ali…”  
  
“Plus, usually the woman who runs the bakery brings us pastries after class. Actually, I don’t know why she didn’t tonight,” Alison mused. “Sometimes she even sits in on the classes. She never really participates, though.”  
  
“Ah, well, if free cookies are involved, then you might convince me,” Cosima teased. She stuck her hand in her jacket pocket, fingering her wallet and her bag of weed, which was…

Gone?  
  
She rooted around in her pockets a bit more, but to no avail.  
  
“ _Shit_ ,” she swore.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Alison asked, opening the front door and stepping out onto the pavement.  
  
“Um, nothing. I just… uh… left my jacket. One sec. I’ll meet you at the car, okay?”  
  
“Cosima, you’re wearing your jacket!” Alison called after her in confusion, but too late. Cosima had already scurried off into the back room. “Okay,” Alison said to no one in particular. “I guess I’ll just pull the van around, then.”  
  
Thankfully Cosima found the back room vacant, and as she searched beneath chairs and tables she could hear the last of the voices fading from the front room.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she lamented as she searched before finally spotting the bag peeking out from beneath a curtain. She vaguely remembered being pushed and twisted against that wall during a particularly dodgy portion of the unraveling of the human knot. She supposed it must have fallen out then. _Ridiculous_ , she thought again. She pocketed the weed and darted out from the back room and into the front of the café. She heard a sharp knock on the front door. 

“Yeah, Alison! I’m coming,” she called out as she began to unlock the door. It seemed that everyone else had already gone for the evening.  
  
She opened the door to find not Alison, but a tall woman balancing a large, overfilled brown paper bag in one arm. She appeared to be frantically rummaging around in her purse for something, and when Cosima opened the door she glanced up swiftly, her eyes wide.

Cosima noticed her eyes first, which were vibrant and hazel. She wore a loose-fitted blue button-up shirt that she appeared to have rolled up at the sleeves, although one sleeve seemed to have partially unrolled itself over the course of the day. Her blonde hair was a disheveled mess of curls on her head, tamed slightly by a pink bandana she’d folded into a headband. Patches of what Cosima assumed to be flour dusted her hair, face, and even parts of her neck and arms. Cosima found herself with the impression that a powerful gust of wind had surged through the door as she’d opened it, but perhaps it was only the whirlwind energy of this woman’s arrival.

‘Oh,” was all Cosima said.  
  
“Ah, thank you! I’m sorry, I – I think I left my keys inside.” The woman went on, pushing past Cosima and into the café.  
  
_Hmmm, French_ , Cosima thought, picking up on her light accent. _Wouldn’t have suspected the suburbs to actually have an authentic French bakery._  
  
“I thought that Alexander would still be here, but I suppose I am late,” the woman continued as she set her bags down on the counter and turned to face Cosima. “And you are… are you a part of the class? I have not seen you before.”

“I, um… yeah. I guess. I don’t know. My sister Alison sort of dragged me into it. Long story.”

“Ah, yes. I know Alison,” she replied with a flash of recognition. “You two do look very much alike.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Cosima laughed. “But we’re pretty different.”  
  
“Hm,” the woman responded with a small smile. “Well, um, thank you for opening the door.”  
  
“Yeah, for sure,” Cosima replied. “So, um, is this your bakery, then?”  
  
“My mother’s, actually,” the woman answered. “Although she has been in France for most of this year, so I suppose you could say that it is mine now. I have been running it.”  
  
“Gotcha. Well, this is my first time here. I just, uh, sort of moved in with Alison temporarily. I’m Cosima, by the way,” she introduced herself, moving towards the woman and extending her hand.  
  
“Delphine,” she responded, reaching out to clasp Cosima’s hand. “ _Enchantée_.”  
  
“ _Enchantée_ ,” Cosima repeated with a grin.  
  
Up until this moment the woman had seemed frazzled and distracted, but now there was a peculiar glint in her hazel eyes as they locked with Cosima’s own.  
  
“Will you be returning for the class next week?” she asked. “Usually I provide pastries, but this week things have been a bit, ehm, hectic, I guess. I lost some of my staff, and… well, that doesn’t matter. Will you be returning?”  
  
“For free pastries? Hell yeah,” Cosima beamed. “And anyway I don’t think Alison’s letting me get out of this any time soon. I kind of, like, owe her,” Cosima conceded sheepishly. “So I’ll see you next week, then?”  
  
“ _Bon_ ,” Delphine replied, grin cracked wide across her face. Cosima was about to move to leave when there was another sharp knock on the door.

“Cosima!” came the shrill voice from the other side. “What the dickens is taking you so long?”  
  
“Oh, shit. I’d better get going. It was, um… nice to meet you,” Cosima said, smiling and trying to maintain eye contact as she fumbled to unlock the door. When it finally swung open, Alison stood indignantly on the other side.  
  
“What took you so long? I tried to call you twice,” she rebuked, crossing her arms in a huff.  
  
“Dude, so sorry. I didn’t hear my phone,” Cosima apologized, reaching into her pocket. Sure enough, her screen indicated two missed calls and a series of texts from Alison.  
  
“It’s my fault,” Delphine offered, positioning herself between them. “I locked myself out, but luckily Cosima was here to let me in. I’m sorry for keeping her.” Delphine caught Cosima’s eye and smiled at her. _Thank you_ , Cosima thought, and smiled gratefully back.  
  
“Oh, well, then I suppose in that case… Well, we’d better get going Cosima. I have to get back and prepare Oscar and Gemma’s lunches for tomorrow,” she spluttered, grabbing Cosima by the arm. She could berate Cosima with no qualms, but apparently didn’t feel she possessed the same sort of authority over this woman. “Delphine, it was good to see you. You’ll be back for class next week?”  
  
“Yes, I will,” Delphine assured her.

“With cookies?” Cosima chimed in with a cheeky grin.  
  
“I will… see what I can do,” she replied, looking Cosima up and down with a sly smile.  
___________________________________________

“What?” Cosima questioned, finally acknowledging the peculiar glances Alison had been sneaking her way throughout the course of their walk to class. Usually Alison would have insisted that they drive, but it was a pleasantly brisk summer day, and Cosima had managed to persuade her to walk.

“Hm?” Alison answered, feigning ignorance.  
  
“You know,” Cosima countered good-naturedly. “What’s up? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”  
  
Alison just stared at her pointedly.  
  
“Okaaaaay,” Cosima said, rolling her eyes. “Totally not helpful. Did I do something? I swear I’m not, like, gonna make fun of your class or anything. I told you I’d give it another try last week.”  
  
“Yes, you did say that,” Alison acknowledged, seemingly skeptical. “But I didn’t expect you to be so… _enthusiastic_ about it.”

Cosima simply shrugged, walking on.  
  
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for free cookies,” she jested.

“Yes, I’m sure it’s the free cookies that changed your mind and not the gorgeous French baker who makes them,” Alison chided. “I mean, _really_ , Cosima?”  
  
“Hey, woah! You think this is about that bakery woman? Delphine?” Cosima asked, legitimately taken aback.  
  
“I’m just asking you to _please_ not mess around with her. I really like this class, and I will not have you making it awkward for me. I know you’ve been on a mission to… to _eff_ everyone in Canada lately, but _please_ leave her alone.”  
  
“Alison,” Cosima responded, “I literally talked to her for, like, two minutes. That didn’t even cross my mind.”  
  
“Oh, _please_ , Cosima. I saw the way you were looking at her. It really didn’t cross your mind?”  
  
Cosima grinned despite herself, remembering Delphine’s windswept hair, her brilliant hazel eyes, and the way her gaze had lingered on her.  
  
“Okay, it might have crossed my mind a little,” Cosima admitted. Alison groaned.

“But not, like, in a serious way! I mean, you said it yourself. She’s gorgeous. But I totally promise I won’t go there,” Cosima assured her, laughing and throwing a playful arm over Alison’s shoulder. “I don’t want to, like, cause drama in suburbia. God.” She rolled her eyes. Truthfully, she didn’t understand why Alison was making such a massive deal out of the situation. Delphine was beautiful, sure, but did Alison really expect her to just fuck every pretty girl she met? Maybe she’d been sleeping around a bit more than usual, but it wasn’t like she was out of control or anything. She could still use good judgment.  
  
“Good. Thank you. And anyway, Delphine is straight,” Alison informed her resolutely. “And she never brings cookies – only leftover scones and muffins.”  
  
“I think I’ll survive,” Cosima chuckled. “I told you, I’ll give your class a chance. Cookies or no cookies, beautiful French baker or no beautiful Fre– Hey!”  
  
Cosima winced as Alison elbowed her playfully in the side.  
___________________________________________  
  
The class was nearly halfway over when Cosima caught Delphine out of the corner of her eye. She hadn’t seen her slip in, but now she noticed her sitting in a chair off to the side, arms crossed over her chest and an amused expression on her face.

“Okay, everyone!” Alexander called out. “Incredible focus during the warm-up games today. I’m really feeling the _connection_ between all of you this class,” he enthused, emphasizing the sentiment with a dramatic gesture of his hands. “I think we’ve all succeeded in migrating to the same energetic plane today, and that we are absolutely ready to venture forth into improvised scene work.”  
  
Sarah Stubbs let out an audible squeal, and even Alison glowed with pride. Cosima rolled her eyes. She generally considered herself a person who kept an open mind to most things, but Alexander was simply too far off into the realm of the absurd. She glanced over at Delphine, who caught her eye and made a pained facial expression. Cosima smiled before making a subtle gagging gesture back. Delphine stifled a laugh.  
  
The class rearranged themselves, setting up rows of chairs alongside where Delphine already sat. Cosima sat in the row just in front of her, Alison at her side. Alexander took volunteers at first, and Cosima grew hopeful that perhaps she might get away with doing nothing at all for the remainder of the class period. Eventually, however, Alexander began to call on those who had yet to volunteer.  
  
“Cosima!” he boomed, extending his hand grandly out to her. “Why don’t you come up here and join Paul for this scene? I don’t believe you’ve had the opportunity to participate yet.” 

“Yeah, ummm….sure. Okay,” she agreed, rising reluctantly from her seat. Alison gave her hand a supportive squeeze.

The scene was, in more ways than one, an absolute disaster. Clearly, Paul had paid just about as little attention to the Rules of Improv as Cosima had, but instead of letting the scene play itself out Alexander saw fit to stop them at every turn. Cosima wasn’t exactly certain what it was about the suggested location of “the moon” and their assigned objective to “find the treasure” that inspired Paul to open the scene by shoving her to the floor, but that’s exactly what he did.  
  
Cosima fell to the floor with a loud _thwack_ , the wind nearly knocked out of her.  
  
“Ow, dude. What the hell?” Cosima exclaimed, scrambling back up from the ground.  
  
“Cosima! Don’t break character,” Alexander scolded.  
  
“Uh, right… umm…”  
  
“Silence, alien creature!” Paul bellowed, “I will not allow you to find this treasure. Although you speak no English, I know of your plan to find this treasure that will give you the power to destroy the Earth!”  
  
“Um, I totally speak English, dude. And I’m gonna destroy _you_ if you push me like that again.”

“No, no, no! Cosima, what is the first Rule of Improv?” Alexander demanded.  
  
“I don’t know,” Cosima snapped. She was annoyed, and was also fairly certain that she’d been musing about epigenetic influences on twin cells when Alexander had been giving that particular lecture.  
  
“ _Yes, and_ Cosima! _Yes, and,”_ he told her. “ _That_ is the first rule of improv. You take what your scene partner offers, accept it, and you add on. Now, what did you do wrong?”  
  
“I, uhhh… told Paul no,” she answered, not enjoying being spoken to as if she were a five year old.  
  
“Exactly,” Alexander confirmed. “And instea-“  
  
“But,” she interrupted, “I kinda feel like there should be an exception when your scene partner, like, starts off by shoving you to the floor and then sets it up so you have to speak _alien gibberish_ for the rest of the scene.”  
  
She hadn’t meant to be _too_ harsh with him. To be fair, her words could still be construed as only playfully sarcastic. But Alexander just stood there, his hand frozen mid-gesture and his mouth agape.  
  
The entire room was silent, and when Cosima scanned about the room she found only blank faces. She panicked for a moment, wondering if she should just steal out the front door right now before anyone could react. But then her gaze landed on Delphine, whose entire hand was spread over her face. Delphine, who was doubled over in her chair. Delphine, whose body was vibrating with repressed laughter.  
  
She quickly lost it, devolving into a fit of loud giggles, and gradually the room began to laugh along with her. Even Paul guffawed, and Alexander finally granted an awkward chuckle, though he was clearly uncomfortable with the room’s reaction.  
  
“All right, yes. That is a good point, Cosima,” Alexander began as the laughter died down. “Paul, it was unfair of you to place such a burden on your scene partner. Cosima is, after all, still quite new at this. Class, I would ask you to please refrain from any sort of physical violence in future scenes. Additionally, please allow your partners the luxury of speaking English.” He turned back toward Cosima and Paul. He smiled a tight smile, and Cosima could see his left eye twitching at its corner. “Now, if you would both please be so kind to begin again.”  
___________________________________________  
  
As promised, Delphine brought out a tray of scones and muffins as the class ended. The students all descended upon them, but Cosima slipped away into the corner and pulled out her phone. She contemplated calling Felix – _anything_ to occupy herself and to avoid any sort of interaction with Alexander or Alison. She was not looking forward to the inevitable lecture that Alison would have for her on the way home – she’d already been on the receiving end of a few agitated looks from her after the incident with Paul, and she knew that did not bode well for her. She now found herself sincerely regretting her decision to walk here and the extended time it would allow for Alison to scold her over her behavior.

“You are quite bad at this, you know.”

She glanced up from her phone to find Delphine’s smirking face looking down at her.

“And I take it you’re, what? Some kind of improv goddess?” Cosima teased back, eyebrows raised.

Delphine shrugged. “I would not know. I’ve never tried it.”

“What, you mean you just come in here and watch every week?” Cosima asked incredulously. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

Delphine shrugged again. “At first I did it because it helped my English.”  
  
“And now?”

“Now I find that it makes for very good entertainment,” she said, chuckling softly. “Especially when new students humiliate the instructor.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Alexander, that man is, ehm…”  
  
“Ridiculous?” Cosima offered, not bothering to lower her voice.

“ _Oui_ , yes,” Delphine chuckled. “Sometimes I cannot believe he is a real person. He comes off as more of a caricature, I think.” 

“Totally,” Cosima agreed. “I don’t get what Alison sees in him. Ugh, shit. She is totally gonna rip me apart on the walk home. Really not looking forward to that.”  
  
“You think she will be angry with you?”  
  
“Um, definitely,” Cosima affirmed. “She sort of made me promise not to fuck up this class for her, and I think I kind of just totally did that. Probably won’t be allowed to come back, which,” she shrugged, “I guess there are worse things. I just wish I could, like, avoid her until she can calm down a bit.”

Delphine hesitated a moment, biting down on her lip.

“Well,” she began. “If, hypothetically, you wanted to avoid this walk home entirely, I could drive you home later.”  
  
Cosima quirked an eyebrow at her.  
  
“And what would I tell Alison?”  
  
“Tell her that you are having a bottle of wine with me,” she said simply. “Or taking a baking lesson.”

Cosima hesitated, her earlier conversation with Alison weighing heavy on her mind.

_I won’t go there._

But then again, if Delphine really was straight… what was the harm in a new friend and some free wine? She needed friends right now, after all. After everything. And with the added bonus of avoiding Alison for the time being, she really couldn’t see a good reason to turn Delphine down. A few glasses of wine didn’t necessarily have to end in bad decisions.

“Hmmm, okay. Yeah. I’m in,” Cosima agreed. “If I’m not, like, throwing off your night or anything.” 

“Not at all,” Delphine assured her. “I will be doing prep and consuming a bottle of wine tonight whether you are here or not. It will be nice to have the company.”  
  
“Okay then,” Cosima said, grin plastered permanently across her face. She would have felt silly for it, but it was difficult to when Delphine’s own smile cracked wide and constant across her own face. “I guess I’ll, uh, go break the news to Alison.”  
  
“Wait, Cosima.” Delphine reached out for her hand, but stopped just shy of grasping it. Cosima turned around to face her. “Here,” she said simply, handing her a bulging white pastry bag. A blush colored Delphine’s cheeks and chest and she stepped back, hands landing awkwardly on her hips.  
  
“I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ll, ehm, meet you there after you talk with Alison, yes?”  
  
Cosima had barely uttered the word “sure” before Delphine had turned on her heel and disappeared through the doorway. Cosima uncurled the top of the pastry bag and peeked in to find a dozen chocolate chip cookies stacked neatly inside.  
  
_Shit_ , she thought, feeling a pleasant warmth washing over her. _Shit_.

She stuffed the cookies into her bag and did her best to suppress the persistent urge to grin before crossing the room to break the news to Alison.  
___________________________________________  
  
Cosima stepped through the kitchen doorway, taking in the quaint space. It was not too large, she noted, but it was arranged in such a way that gave it the illusion of being absolutely massive. It was not lost on her that it was exceptionally clean for a commercial kitchen, and that everything seemed to be meticulously organized.

“So, this is where you spend all of your time, then?” Cosima asked, lingering near the doorway.  
  
“Yes, more than I would care to admit,” Delphine groaned, measuring flour even as they spoke. She had her hair swept up again, this time adorned with a red bandana. The sleeves of her button-up were rolled up above her elbows, and she wore an off-white apron. “Especially lately. My only other baker quit last week, and I have had to do everything myself. I could definitely use that bottle of wine tonight,” she said, pausing to blow an errant curl off of her face. “How did it go with Alison?”  
  
“Oh, she was fine,” Cosima assured her, waving it off. She elected not to mention the exceptionally skeptical look Alison had graced her with, or the fact that Alison probably would not have _allowed_ her to stay had Sarah Stubbs not so overzealously captured her by the arm and insisted that they go grab after-class drinks themselves. “She caught a ride home wish Sarah Stubbs.”  
  
“Wonderful,” Delphine said, wiping her forehead with the back of her forearm. Cosima watched as she finished measuring out the sugar and baking soda. “I am almost finished here. The dry mixes are finished now, and I just need to finish laminating the dough for the _croissants_. Then I am all yours. But I think we can open the wine now,” she said with a mischievous grin.

“Okay, pretty much all I got out of that was ‘almost finished’ and ‘open the wine,’” Cosima replied, dropping her bag by the door.

“Good, then you’ve picked out the important parts,” Delphine said wryly, grabbing a cloth and beginning to wipe down the prep area.  
  
“Hey, thanks for the cookies by the way. I already ate, like, three of them. They’re fucking spectacular.”  
  
“Thank you,” Delphine said, face and chest glowing crimson again. “I figured you might need an excuse to come back. Alexander, he… well, he usually chases away all of the students I actually like.”  
  
“So you bribe them to stay with cookies?” Cosima teased, tongue poking playfully through her teeth.  
  
Delphine smiled, fetching a tray of croissant dough from the fridge.  
  
“Only the ones I really like,” she replied, setting the tray on the counter. “Now go get the wine,” she continued before Cosima could form a response. “It’s underneath the register in the front of the café. I have glasses back here. I hope you like red?”  
  
“Yeah, definitely,” she answered, beginning to question – even more so than she already had been – the platonic nature of this encounter. It certainly didn’t feel like two _friends_ having a drink together, and Delphine was definitely flirting… but was it intentional? Did she realize what she was doing? Cosima realized that she scarcely knew this woman, but still… she did _like_ her.  
  
She slipped out of the kitchen and retrieved the wine from below the register. She shook her head, thoughts still tumbling about in her head. If this were all so very innocent, then why did she already feel so guilty about it? She paused, bottle of wine in hand, before turning on her heel and walking resolutely back into the kitchen.  
  
She really needed to stop overthinking things.  
___________________________________________  
  
They were already halfway through their second glasses by the time Delphine had finished all of her prep work for the evening and suggested that they relocate to the couch in the back room – “It is far more comfortable there, I promise,” she had assured her.  They sat there together comfortably, warmed by the wine and curled up on opposite ends of the couch.

And it was _comfortable_ , spending time with Delphine. Cosima found herself quite caught off guard by the unsuspected pleasantness of her company. She kept reminding herself that she hardly knew this woman, yet she felt so completely at ease with her that she found it quite easy to forget.  
  
“So, Delphine,” Cosima began. “What do you do?”

“I am a baker,” she laughed. “I would have thought that was obvious.” 

“But I mean, what else? Like, you’re so smart. You can’t just be a baker.”

“And why can’t I? I enjoy other things. I write. I play music in my spare time. And at one time I thought I would study immunology, but… it takes up too much of my mind. It takes all of my energy, all of my brain. But with baking, it’s… it’s therapeutic. I can let my mind wander. I am free to think about whatever I want when I work: about immunological responses, about the philosophical merits of Jean-Paul Sartre, about Buckminster Fuller, about a dress I saw in a magazine. I’m free. I found immunology so… constricting?” she paused, furrowing her brow before deciding that she had, indeed, landed on the correct word. “ _Oui_ , constricting. I found that there was no space in my mind for anything else. I prefer baking.”

“Huh, I guess I never… never thought of it that way. Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to, like–”

“It’s okay, Cosima,” Delphine sighed, giving her a small smile. “You are not the first person to be surprised.”

“I get it though. Now. It makes sense,” Cosima told her, and she meant it.  
  
“So, Cosima,” Delphine said, taking a slow sip of her wine, “What do you do? Aside from taking improvisation classes in the back room of my bakery?”  
  
Cosima chuckled at that. 

“Just finished up my degree, actually. Doctorate in evolutionary biology.”  
  
“That is very impressive,” Delphine said, her eyebrows rising slightly. “Congratulations.”  
  
“Yeah, thanks.” Cosima smiled. “I’m taking the summer off before applying for some research positions in Toronto and maybe some back in the States. Or maybe I’ll teach. Probably both, eventually. Or whatever someone’ll hire me for.”  
  
“You are not Canadian? But I thought, ehm. Alison is your sister, isn’t she?”  
  
“Yeah, but we’re both from San Francisco originally. She did her undergrad in Canada, met her husband there, and sort of just never left. So she’s basically Canadian. Well, I guess officially Canadian now. I just moved here for my Doctorate.”  
  
“And you are living with Alison now?”  
  
“Oh, yeah… but that’s just sort of temporary. Doesn’t really make sense for me to get a new apartment until I know where I’m gonna be for work, you know?” She paused for a moment, considering. She took another sip of wine. “And I sort of just got out of a relationship. I let her keep the apartment.”

“I see,” was all Delphine said, and she took another long sip of wine. If she was at all surprised by Cosima’s use of the feminine pronoun, she gave no indication of it. “This breakup, was it… amicable?”  
  
Cosima couldn’t help but laugh.  
  
“Umm, not really,” she groaned. “I sort of, umm… God. I was going to break up with her, and it would’ve been fine. I mean, it would have sucked, but nothing, like, dramatic or anything. But then I come home from school early one day and I find her in our bed with this girl from her meditation class and just…ugh.” Cosima polished off the rest of her glass of wine, and Delphine mirrored her before reaching for the bottle.

“That does sound… traumatic,” Delphine said gently, refilling both of their glasses. “It sounds like you might need this bottle of wine more than I do.”  
  
“Maybe,” Cosima laughed. “And that’s not even the worst of it.”  
  
“No?” Delphine prompted.  
  
“Nope. So I take some of my things and go to Alison’s,” Cosima continued, “And then two days later she shows up on the doorstep with a fucking ring.”  
  
“She proposed?!” Delphine exclaimed, her eyes widening. “After she cheated on you?”

“Yeah,” Cosima confirmed, laughing bitterly. “It was just all such a fucking mess. I didn’t want her anymore, but I didn’t want it to end like that. Not with her cheating on me and, like, begging and crying on my sister’s doorstop.” Cosima shook her head. “But anyway, this was like, a few months ago,” she said, waving it off. Her bangles jingled with the motion. “I don’t really wanna think about it any more. Actually Alison made me take this stupid class to distract me from it.”

“I’m sorry,” Delphine said softly, reaching out and laying a hand over Cosima’s.  
  
“Yeah, me too,” Cosima replied sadly, little pinpricks of electricity springing up over her skin where Delphine’s hand touched hers. She frowned. _This is so not the right time for this._ “Sorry,” she said, slipping her hand out from underneath Delphine’s. “I, um, probably shouldn’t have told you all of that.”  
  
“I think perhaps we need another bottle of wine,” Delphine announced, reaching out and giving Cosima’s hand a quick squeeze before hopping up from the couch. “Unless you need to go? I am afraid I am, ehm, maybe too drunk right now, but I could take you in a few hours if we stop drinking now. Or I could call you a cab. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… _merde,_ ” she giggled, and Cosima realized that they were both already a bit too far past sobriety and sound judgment.  
  
_Take the cab_ , Alison’s voice echoed in Cosima’s head. _You promised._  
  
But Delphine, still dusted on her face and arms with patches of flour, smiled down at her with wine-stained lips. And Cosima was happier than she’d been in – well, in longer than she could remember. And she didn’t _want_ to leave, truthfully. There was still a chance that she was reading this wrong – that perhaps Delphine was not interested in her in that way at all. That perhaps she was simply friendly, and thoughtful, and in just as much need of a friend as Cosima was. So why not stay?  
  
“I think we should open up another bottle,” Cosima smiled, sinking back into the couch and into the easy warmth the wine inspired in her.  
  
“ _Bon_ ,” Delphine answered, bouncing off into the front room. Cosima still knew hardly anything about this woman, but already she seemed a much lighter iteration of the frazzled woman she had encountered only a week ago.

When Delphine returned with the newly uncorked bottle she sat cross-legged on the couch just across from Cosima, who rested on the other side with her legs tucked beneath her.  
  
“Cosima, have you heard of theatre therapy?” she asked as she generously filled each of their glasses.  
  
“Um, I think so? It’s, like, where you do improvised scenes to work through traumatic shit, right?”  
  
“Exactly. Well, at least it is at its most basic level, yes. But,” Delphine paused, eyes glinting.  “And I think… yes. You and I, we’re going to do an experiment.”  
  
Cosima’s face fell as she realized the implication of Delphine’s statement.  
  
“Oooooh, no,” she protested. “I am not doing any more improv than I have to tonight. And I don’t want to, like, break down crying in front of you or some shit.”  
  
“No, we have to at least try! I think that maybe Alison is right, in a way. Theatre would be good for you, but not to distract you. I think instead to… focus you? No, that’s not the right word. _Merde_.”  
  
“You mean, like, to help me process?” Cosima said dubiously.  
  
“ _Oui_! Exactly.”  
  
“Okay… maybe,” Cosima said hesitantly, still skeptical. “Improv is all about saying ‘ _yes_ , _and,_ ” apparently,” she continued, words laced with sarcasm. She rolled her eyes. “So, _yes_. And what do you want me to do?”  
  
“Well, what would you like to say to, ehm… what is your ex-girlfriends name?”  
  
“Shay,” Cosima muttered with a bitterness that startled her. “Delphine, this is probably a bad idea…”  
  
But Delphine’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Cosima found herself suddenly laughing as Delphine pulled her up off of the couch to stand next to her.  
  
“What happened to ‘ _yes, and_ ,’ Cosima? You have to accept what I say, and then add something of your own. It’s the First Rule of Improv,” she announced mockingly, devolving into a fit of giggles before composing herself again.  
  
“See, Delphine? This is ridiculous. You’re laughing!” Cosima responded, chuckling along with her.  
  
“No, I am serious about this! Here, pretend that I am Shay,” she offered, letting go of Cosima’s hand and standing directly across from her. “Tell me what you would want to tell her.”  
  
“Wow, I _really_ don’t want to do that,” Cosima said, sobering suddenly. “And how do you even know all of this stuff? Did you study theatre or something?”  
  
“No, but I read a lot of books. And I have had discussions with Alexander sometimes after his class. He is quite strange, but he actually has some fascinating viewpoints on the intersection of healing, theatre, and psychology.”  
  
“Hm,” Cosima mused, “So you think you can heal me with theatre?” she asked doubtfully.  
  
“ _Non_ ,” Delphine laughed warmly, “But I do think it would help you to _process_ things, as you said. Now, what would you want to tell her?”  
  
Cosima hesitated a moment, and then thought that perhaps she would disclose just a few small details. Make something up, perhaps. Make light of the situation. None of it was really _that_ big of a deal, after all. She had been planning to break up with Shay, anyway. And in a way, it was really a pretty funny story. In a way.  
  
And maybe it was the wine, or perhaps it was Delphine’s kind expression, but somehow the truth tumbled out instead.  
  
“I’d tell her that I’m sorry for being so distant,” Cosima admitted, “and that I’m sorry for stringing her along for so long when I was never planning on staying with her.” Cosima’s gaze dropped to the floor, hovering there, and she hesitated again before gazing intently into Delphine’s eyes. “And I’d say that I’m sorry for letting her fall in love with me when I knew I would never fall in love with her.”  
  
“Oh,” Delphine breathed, letting the weight of Cosima’s admission sink in.  
  
“She cheated, but I’m the one who fucked up. That’s why it all feels so shitty,” Cosima laughed bitterly. “So I’m kind of a horrible person.”  
  
“You’re not,” Delphine assured her, grasping her hands and holding them close to her chest. Her eyes gleamed with a strength and an evenness that Cosima would not have expected to see there. “But I think you do need to tell her all of this. So she can move on.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Cosima agreed reluctantly. “It’s just…”  
  
“Hard, I know,” Delphine smiled sympathetically, and Cosima knew then that she understood. Knew, somehow from this, that at one point in her life Delphine had found herself in a similar situation. She found the notion strangely and surprisingly comforting.  
  
“Well fuck,” Cosima said, only realizing that she’d begun to sob when she felt Delphine reach out and brush a tear from under her eye.  
  
“Hey, it’s okay,” Delphine comforted her, leaning forward to softly kiss her on the forehead. Again, Cosima felt that electricity. And again, it was the wrong moment.  
  
“Shit, I told you I didn’t want to cry in front of you,” Cosima laughed through her sobs. “Wow. I am like, on a roll with spectacular first impressions today. Shit.”  
  
Delphine laughed and embraced her, and Cosima let herself melt into it. They lingered there together for a few moments, and when Delphine pulled away slightly Cosima could still feel her fingers lingering lightly on her back.  
  
“It’s okay, Cosima,” Delphine assured her. They remained close, and Delphine’s fingertips brushed along Cosima’s sides, stopping to rest there.

“And it’s strange, but… no, never mind,” she said, shaking her head and sinking her teeth into her lip.  
  
“What?” Cosima prompted softly.  
  
“It sounds silly, but… it doesn’t feel like a first impression.”  
  
“I know,” Cosima agreed, slightly regaining her composure. “I feel like I’ve known you for, like, a while. It’s weird.” She’d mostly calmed down, but she still sniffled a bit. “I’m still really sorry for, like, this, though,” she apologized, gesturing towards herself.

Delphine smiled, giving Cosima’s arms a quick squeeze before stepping back out of her space.  
  
“Well, so maybe my theatre therapy idea was not for the best. Do you want to play Bippity Bippity Bop instead?” she jested, eyes twinkling playfully.  
  
“Ugh, not even at all!” Cosima laughed.  
  
“I suppose it would be silly with two people, after all,” Delphine replied.  
  
“It’s silly with _any_ number of people,” Cosima said wryly.  
  
“That is probably true,” Delphine allowed. “Do you want something to eat then? I think I have forgotten to eat dinner again.”  
  
“Well,” Cosima said with a sly grin, “I think I recall someone giving me some delicious chocolate chip cookies earlier, and I’m pretty sure there are still nine left. That’s, like, basically dinner.”

“Okay,” Delphine acquiesced with a chuckle, “But only because I am already drunk, and I do not trust myself to cook right now. But this does not mean that I approve of _cookies_ as an acceptable dinner substitute.”  
  
“No? Not even if we open another bottle of wine to go along with them?” Cosima teased. “I think then it counts.” 

“ _Non_ ,” Delphine proclaimed. “But tonight I will allow it. Next time, I will cook you a proper dinner.”  
  
“Inviting me on a dinner date already?” Cosima asked, suddenly feeling bold. “Well then, Delphine… shit. I don’t even know your last name, do I?”  
  
“ _Cormier_ ,” she divulged.  
  
“ _Cormier_ ,” Cosima repeated in a poor attempt at mimicking her accent. She giggled. “Hm, it sounds a lot sexier when you say it.”  
  
“ _Merci_ ,” Delphine replied breathily.  
  
“Well, _Delphine Cormier_. You do move awfully fast.”  
  
“Hm,” Delphine hummed, a coy grin playing at the corners of her mouth. “Come, let’s go get our dinner.”  
___________________________________________  
  
Cosima stood behind Delphine, a plate of cookies in her hand. Delphine had insisted that they display them “properly, on a plate,” and now Cosima waited as she fumbled through cabinets in search of another bottle of wine.

“I could have sworn I had one more – _merde_ , I suppose one of the baristas took it,” Delphine grumbled. “I thought I had one more bottle of wine, but… wait!” she exclaimed, an idea occurring to her. She crouched down and pulled a bin out from under the register. It was filled with what appeared to be myriad scarves, eyeglasses, mittens, and the like.  
  
“Ah!” Delphine exclaimed triumphantly, uncovering a bottle from the assortment of orphaned garments.  
  
“Rum? Seriously? You have a full bottle of _rum_ in your lost and found?!” Cosima observed, incredulous.  
  
“Someone left it a little while back, yes. And they have not come back for it, soooo…” Delphine enticed, playfully waggling her eyebrows before biting down on her lip, awaiting Cosima’s response.  
  
“Fuck, let’s go for it. Cookies and rum, why not?!”  
  
“ _Bon_!” Delphine responded, beginning to close the bin.  
  
“Hey, wait! What’s that?” Cosima stopped her, setting the plate of cookies on the counter before kneeling down by the bin. She reached in and grabbed the object in question.  
  
“Shit, is this a Polaroid camera?” she asked, studying it. “Sweet, I think there’s still film in it! Oh, we are so using this tonight.”  
  
Delphine giggled at Cosima’s childlike fascination with the object.  
  
“Okay,” Delphine laughed at her. “But food first. Come,” she requested, grasping Cosima’s hand and tugging her toward the kitchen. “I have glasses in the kitchen.”  
___________________________________________  
  
The rum appeared to be expensive, judging by its bottle which was accented with gold and adorned with raffia knotted in diamond shapes. They decided that it should be sipped, although truthfully the both of them were probably well past any ability to discern the quality of one alcohol from another.

Cosima sat on the stainless steel kitchen counter, legs dangling over the side. She smoothed over her tight burgundy dress with her hands before beginning to toy absently with her bracelets. She’d kicked her heels off a while back, although Delphine had initially disapproved of her walking barefoot in her kitchen. Meanwhile, Delphine had procured two tumblers, a woven placemat, and a small vase with a single small sunflower in it.  
  
“Wow, all that’s missing is the candle,” Cosima teased her. “Delphine Cormier, are you trying to seduce me?”  
  
“I don’t know,” she laughed. “It does seem like it, doesn’t it?”  
  
“Wait, I have to take a picture of this. Smile!”  
  
“No, Cosima!” Delphine protested, laughing and leaning against the counter as she attempted to hide her face.  
  
_Snap_.  
  
“Too late. Got it,” Cosima announced in triumph. “I wonder how many pictures are left in this thing?”  
  
The night was already beginning to blur a bit around its edges from the wine, and the addition of rum did nothing to reestablish any sense of clarity. The passage of time grew progressively patchier, hazier, more inconsistent. The walls of the kitchen began to blur, to move, to morph, to fade. Mostly, Cosima remembered Delphine’s radiant smile. The timbre of her laugh. The way her slender frame shook when she found something particularly hilarious (and she did seem to find _many_ things hilarious). She remembered the electricity of her touch when she’d reach out to grasp her hand. She remembered the way she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, the way she licked chocolate from the corners of her mouth and her fingers. Mostly, she remembered feeling content. Feeling warm.  
  
At one point she must have suggested weed brownies, as currently there were a few ingredients scattered about on the counter across from them. Cosima’s bag of weed sat just beside the butter, which was squished into the counter. The bag of flour was tipped on its side and spilled partially onto the floor. The plate of cookies was now just a plate of crumbs, and the bottle of rum was significantly less full than when they’d begun.  
  
Cosima now stood leaning against the counter, and Delphine was doing something at the sink. Cosima could not remember what exactly, but before she could think of it Delphine was beside her again.  
  
“Thank you for spending time with me tonight,” she said softly. Apparently she had begun to clean things up, Cosima noted, so it seemed the night was finally drawing to a close. She would regret all of the alcohol in the morning – that much she knew – but at least she had kept her promise to Alison.  
  
“It’s not often that I – I mean, I am always so busy,” Delphine went on. Cosima noticed that her accent seemed to be thicker. “I don’t get to do things like this often.”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Cosima replied. The room swam a bit, but she felt that she was mostly succeeding in keeping her composure. “Thanks for saving me from Alison.”  
  
“ _Bien sûr_ ,” she replied warmly. “Should I call you a cab?”  
  
“Shit, I don’t even know if I’m sober enough for that,” Cosima groaned, laughing as she pressed her palms to her forehead.  
  
“Okay, well…” Delphine hesitated again. “You are welcome to stay on my couch if you like.”  
  
“Do you live close?” Cosima questioned.  
  
“Upstairs.”  
  
“Wait, for real?” Cosima laughed, and she was fairly certain that a few rather unattractive hiccups worked their way into her laughter. “God, you are such a cliché.”

“What do you mean?” Delphine asked, brows knitted together in confusion.  
  
“Intelligent, sexy French pastry chef lives in an adorable little apartment above her bakery? Massive cliché,” she teased.

Delphine chuckled.

“I assure you that my apartment is far from adorable,” Delphine answered, blushing. “Although it is little. And I – hm.” She stopped, gazing down and beginning to toy with Cosima’s fingers. Cosima noticed that she was biting her lip again, and she was suddenly aware of how very _close_ they were. Of how very _warm_ Delphine was.  
  
“I think… I want to do another experiment.”  
  
“I hope it’s not more improv,” Cosima countered, doing her best to keep things light.

“ _Non_ , I…” 

Delphine was worrying her lip between her teeth yet again, and Cosima scarcely had the chance to think _“No, not like this. Not like this_ ” before Delphine was kissing her. Kissing her softly, clumsily, and then desperately. Cosima moaned, looping her fingers into Delphine’s belt loops and pulling her flush against her. She didn’t care any longer that this shouldn’t be happening like this, that this shouldn’t be happening at all. She whimpered, giggling into Delphine’s mouth when she backed her too hard against the counter.

She remembered a mess of laughter, of clothes shed much too quickly. She remembered a cloud of flour, a clatter of metal. She remembered Delphine, eager. She remembered Delphine, warm. She remembered Delphine’s fingers slipping up the inside of her thigh, her palm pressed hard against her, her own dress rucked up over her hips. She remembered the cool steel counter against her bare ass as Delphine lifted her up onto it, fingers still teasing desperately and inexpertly between her thighs.  
  
“Delphine, wait. Have you ever – ”  
  
She couldn’t remember what stopped her question. She couldn’t remember if anything had.  
  
“ _Dis-moi,_ ” Delphine breathed against her, cradling her face and nipping at her earlobe.  
  
She _did_ remember crying out in Delphine’s arms. She did remember sinking fingernails into the pale skin of her back and biting down _hard_ into the slick skin at the base of her neck. But she couldn’t remember how they’d arrived there – if Cosima had guided her, if Delphine had simply figured things out on her own. If perhaps Delphine _had_ done this before. If perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway; if perhaps simply the fact that it was Delphine was enough.

She remembered only flashes, from there. As if all of these moments had been captured imperfectly and quite by mistake. One-second clips, all out of focus and poorly framed. Naked, and stumbling up a flight of stairs – Delphine’s hand in hers. Pressed against the back of an unfamiliar door – Delphine’s mouth at her neck. A click, a brilliant flash. Delphine’s fingers in her hair, urging her closer, bucking desperately against her mouth. She remembered stillness.  
  
Mostly, still, she remembered warmth.  
___________________________________________  
  
Cosima would be remiss to say that this wasn’t a familiar scenario for her, as of late. She supposed that it should alarm her how accustomed she now was to this; to waking up in an unfamiliar bed with an unfamiliar arm draped over her torso and an unfamiliar face nuzzled into the back of her neck. She could feel her headache creeping across her skull already, but by now she knew to appreciate these few blissful moments before the past night’s activities rushed inevitably back into her consciousness. These few moments where her world consisted only of a warm bed, of the darkness behind her eyelids, and a soft body pressed into her back. 

It never lasted long enough. 

She breathed in and found that the sheets smelled strangely sweet, like sugar and something floral that she couldn’t quite identify. She groaned, finally opening her eyes to discover a small and slightly blurry bedroom. She reached out blindly towards the bedside table and at first landed on a pile of rings – _her_ rings.  
  
_Shit, of course_ , she thought.  
  
She tried again and managed, by some stroke of luck, to find her glasses there just beside the rings. She put them on, blinking a few times until the room came into focus. It was sparsely decorated, but welcoming nonetheless. A plethora of books were stacked tidily on the desk, and even more were shelved neatly on a large bookcase against the wall. And it was _clean_. Meticulously, spotlessly clean. Apart from the pillows tossed onto the floor – likely casualties from the previous night – everything seemed to be in its proper place. It reminded her of Delphine’s kitchen. Delphine’s kitchen, which she’d been in last night after the improv class. Last night after the bottles of wine, after…

 _Shit_.

Cosima didn’t have to remember much to know that she needed to get out of this room as quickly as humanly possible. She wriggled her way out of Delphine’s arms, careful not to wake her, and spotted her bag on the floor. She grabbed it, tossing the rings inside while glancing frantically about the room. Her clothes were nowhere to be found.  
  
_Fuck_ , she thought. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._  
  
Delphine stirred, and in a moment of panic Cosima grabbed a shirt and a pair of shorts from Delphine’s closet before darting out of the room and out the front door.  
___________________________________________  
  
The journey home was miserable, to say the least. She silently cursed the suburbs for not having adequate public transit in place, and Alison for electing to live so far from the main hub of town. Her head throbbed, her body ached, and she was fairly certain she could feel an impressive bruise beginning to form where Delphine had backed her too forcefully into the kitchen counter.

She suspected other bruises, as well, but now was not the time to dwell on that.  
  
The sun bore down on her, exacerbating the ache pounding in her skull. She stumbled through the cacophony of light and sound, entertaining fantasies of quietly keeling over onto the grass or underneath a nearby tree. She knew she would regret it later, though, and instead trudged reluctantly onward. At least it was a weekday, and it would be fairly easy to sneak back into the house. For once, Cosima found herself grateful for the rigidity of Alison’s schedule. She knew that this morning Alison would be leading craft time in Gemma’s class, which gave her exactly thirty minutes to get home without anyone noticing that she’d been gone.  
  
She made it with time to spare, and no sooner had she slipped through the front doorway and turned towards the stairs did she hear a tiny voice calling after her.  
  
“Auntie Cosima!”  
  
Cosima’s heart leapt up into her throat.  
  
“H-hey there, Gemma!” she greeted her, as warmly as she could manage. She attempted a smile, hoping she could still escape up the stairs before the ever-curious child could ask too many questions.  
  
“Mommy let me stay home and have a sick day today! She says I have a fever. Where have you been? Did you stay out late working on science again? Do you wanna do an experiment with me?”  
  
_I think… I want to do another experiment._

Cosima flushed, the memory of Delphine’s open mouth desperate against her own flooding back into her consciousness.  
  
“Hey, um… maybe later, okay?” she said, pushing Delphine from her mind and instead kneeling down to Gemma’s level. “I’m feeling kind of sick, too, so I’m gonna go take a nap now. Okay?”  
  
Gemma furrowed her brow, crossing her tiny arms across her chest.  
  
“You always get sick after you stay out late doing science. Do you work with viruses?”  
  
Cosima flushed again. She really _did_ need to stop doing this.  
  
“… _Cosima_?”  
  
Alison’s shrill voice rang out in the hallway, and as she turned around to face her Cosima could see the realization of what must have happened sweep over her. It was not a pleasant transformation. Her face reddened, her body tensed, and she crossed her arms across her chest in a gesture terrifyingly reminiscent of her daughter’s.  
  
“Gemma, honey,” Alison began with a tight smile. “Why don’t you go down into the basement and pick out a movie? Mommy will come down with ice cream in a minute.”  
  
“Okay, mom!” Gemma answered brightly. “I hope you feel better, Auntie Cosima!”  
  
And with that she bounced down the stairs.  
  
As soon as Gemma was out of earshot, Alison let loose.  
  
“ _What_ the fu-fiddlesticks is wrong with you?” she seethed, lips tight and voice barely above a whisper. “Cosima, please tell me that you didn’t do what I think you did.”  
  
“Alison,” she began, rubbing her temples. “Can we just talk about this la–“  
  
“Whose clothes are you wearing? And what is this all over you?” she asked, grabbing Cosima’s face roughly by the jaw and turning it to get a better view of the white patches dusted there.  
  
“Is this _flour_ , Cosima?” she snapped. “Oh, Cosima. You _did_ , didn’t you?”  
  
_Never drinking again_ , Cosima thought miserably.  
___________________________________________  
  
“Oh, darling. You look like shit. And you’re late, as expected.”

“Yeah, good to see you too, Felix,” Cosima shot back as she slipped into her seat and set her mug of coffee on the table.  
  
“Well now, someone is a bit cranky today,” Felix teased, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Not getting any lately?” he prodded with a smirk.  
  
“Dude, Felix. Not in the mood.”  
  
“I can see that. God, suburban coffee is shite.” He looked around disdainfully. They’d met at a coffee shop on the other side of town, far away from Delphine’s bakery. “And I can’t believe you made me trek all the way out here to Scarberia. This place positively reeks of dreary, sexless marriages and repressed sexual urges. The tension is _palpable_.”  
  
“Well, I appreciate you making the journey,” Cosima told him, still humorless. Felix finally dropped his act.  
  
“Okay, spill,” he said sincerely, leaning forward and grasping Cosima’s hand. “Was it Shay again?”  
  
“No, nothing to do with Shay.”  
  
“Okay, then what?”  
  
“I slept with someone,” she admitted. “I was, like, blackout drunk, and I hardly remember any of it. And I left before she woke up the next morning.”  
  
“You’ll have to be more specific, darling,” Felix said dryly. “Which time are we talking about? Was it that blue-haired women at the club last Tuesday? Or that skinny little thing on Thursday? Or are you going out without me now, too?”  
  
“Okay, okay. I get it! I’ve been sleeping around a lot lately. I know. But this was, like, different.”  
  
“How so?” Felix asked dubiously.  
  
“Well, for one, Alison knows her.”  
  
“Oh! So our little Cosima has taken a suburban lover? How… unexpected,” he said, chuckling. “Fuck the brains out of some discontented little housewife, did you? Nice bit of charity, that. You should consider starting a business.”  
  
“No! I didn’t… ugh. No. It was that stupid improv class Alison made me take. I might have sort of… well, gotten drunk with the woman who owns the bakery. And then slept with her.”  
  
“I fail to see what a bakery has to do with an improv class.”  
  
“It, like, takes place in the back room there.”  
  
“Oh, of course. However did I fail to see the connection,” he responded flippantly. “So, you had a one-night stand with someone vaguely involved in Alison’s improv class. What’s the issue? Aside from the fact that Alison is probably plotting your murder as we speak.”  
  
“I think she was already doing that after I told off the instructor in front of the class,” Cosima lamented. “But that’s another story.”  
  
“So?” Felix urged.  
  
“So… ugh, no. It’s stupid.” 

“Cosima! You can’t just do that. Come on! Tell me.” He paused a moment, leaning back and regarding her more closely.

“Oh. My. God,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading wide across his face as a realization hit him. “You like this girl.”  
  
“Felix, I–” Cosima protested, but to no avail.  
  
“Cosima, you’re blushing! You are absolutely bright red right now. Oh my god,” he exclaimed gleefully. “You _like_ this bakery improv suburbanite.”  
  
“Felix, I hardly know her. And Alison says she’s straight!”  
  
“But she slept with you,” he pointed out.  
  
“Yeah, when she was blackout drunk,” Cosima grumbled. “And do you know what she said before she kissed me? ‘I think I want to do an experiment.’ She literally came onto me saying she wanted to _experiment_.”

“And you fell for that line? Oh, Cosima. Darling. No.”  
  
“I knooooow,” Cosima groaned, burying her face in her hands. “And there’s more.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“So the next morning I found this Polaroid camera in my bag. And pictures.”  
  
“Oh? What kind of pictures?”  
  
“Not the kind of pictures you’d want to show your mom.”  
  
“Show me,” Felix ordered. 

Cosima sighed and laid them out on the table.  
  
“Oh, she’s hot,” he commented. “Nice work.”  
  
“Thanks,” she said sarcastically, burying her face in her hands again.

There were four photos in total. One of them she remembered taking: the one of Delphine laughing and trying to hide her face in the kitchen, the plate of cookies present in the foreground. Another Delphine must have taken of her. It was far too close, but Cosima’s eyes gleamed bright behind her glasses as she laughed hysterically, seemingly gasping for air.

“Well, this is definitely the happiest I’ve ever seen you in a photograph,” Felix observed. “Was this post-coital? That must have been some mind-blowing straight girl sex.”  
  
“ _Felix_ ,” Cosima groaned.  
  
“Okay, okay,” he said, waving her off. “Hm, and here things do start to get interesting.”  
  
The next photo was of Delphine, naked and sitting with legs crossed on the kitchen counter. Even in her drunken state, she smiled sheepishly and shied away from the camera. It was a strangely gorgeous photo, and Cosima didn’t remember taking it at all.  
  
“So, are you going to finally ditch that science nonsense and become a photographer of nudes instead? Because I think you should.” Felix teased. “This one is quite nice, actually.”  
  
The last photo was Delphine again, naked, but this time the shot was only from the waist up. It appeared that Cosima had taken it from above – probably while straddling her on the bed – and Delphine gazed up, smiling radiantly. Her tousled curls cascaded all around her face, obscuring the pillow entirely, and her eyes gleamed something vivid. Delphine seemed to gaze just beyond the camera, her expression wholly unguarded.

“My god. This woman is completely in love with you,” Felix stated matter of factly.  
  
“Felix, it was a one-night stand,” Cosima protested. “This was literally the second time I’d met her, and the first time we’d had any sort of, like, substantial interaction.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter. I know this look when I see it. This woman is in love with whoever took this photograph of her,” he insisted.  
  
“Maybe I didn’t take the photograph,” she protested.  
  
“Cosima – ”  
  
“I don’t remember taking it!”  
  
“It sounds like you don’t remember a lot of things that happened that night!” he countered.  
  
Cosima stewed, crossing her arms over herself and choosing to remain silent.  
  
“The way I see it, you have two options,” Felix informed her. “You can take your things, leave Scarberia now, forget this ever happened, and never return. Or,” he began, eyes glinting.  
  
“Or?”  
  
“Or you go back to this improv class, pay a visit to your sexy blonde baker, and _deal with this situation_.”  
  
“Felix, it’s horrible timing. I, like, just got out of a relationship. I shouldn’t be dating anyone right now. I shouldn’t _like_ anyone right now. And anyway it was just a one-time thing.”  
  
“Cosima, you’re the one who keeps assuring us all that you’re fine! And anyway, you can’t control timing. I wasn’t ready for Colin when I met him, but I said to hell with it. Yes! Because I wanted him. And now look at us.” He paused, smiling, and his voice became suddenly gentler. “Sometimes these things just happen, darling. We meet people who move us, and if you avoid this until you think the timing is right then you may miss the opportunity entirely. And Cosima,” he said pointedly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“If you’re actually bothering to talk to me about this then it was more than a one-night stand. Stop lying to yourself, darling.”  
  
Cosima took another sip of her coffee and sunk down into her seat. She really did hate it when Felix was right.  
___________________________________________  
  
“I can’t believe you actually want to come back to class. Are you sure about this?” Alison asked, still skeptical.

“Alison, we’re literally in the car on our way there now. You already asked me before we left the house, and again before we got in the car. And again now. I promise, I’m sure.”  
  
“Okay, but…” Alison hesitated, her fingers wrapped tensely around the wheel.  
  
“Just say it, Ali. You don’t want me to embarrass you, right?”  
  
“Just… please be nice to Alexander. And try not to make a scene with Delphine while everyone’s still there. Or preferably at all. I just – ”  
  
“You really like this class, I know,” she said. She clutched her bag tightly at her side. “I know. I promise.”  
___________________________________________  
  
Strangely, Cosima found that it was much easier to lose herself in the scene work this week. Perhaps it was because it gave her the luxury of focusing on something apart from Delphine, on something apart from her snowballing anxiety over their pending encounter. On something apart from her worry that Delphine might simply choose not to be present this evening. That Delphine might want to avoid her entirely.  
  
Or, perhaps it was quite simply that she was fortunate enough to not be paired with Paul.  
  
She found that Sarah Stubbs was a surprisingly pleasant scene partner, and she performed a rather spectacularly witty scene about a game show with a new woman called Krystal. She still didn’t quite like the way that Alexander spoke to her, but she found that his stupid _yes, and_ rule actually helped her. And, to her absolute surprise, she found herself having _fun_.  
  
Still, she couldn’t help but glance to the doorway every few seconds. She kept expecting Delphine to waltz in with a coy smile and a tray full of pastries, flour dusted in patches all over her face and arms. For her to sit, arms crossed over herself, and chuckle at the class’s antics.  
  
But she didn’t.  
  
The class was nearly over when Cosima happened to look to the doorway just in time to see it closing. She scanned the room, noticing that a tray of pastries now sat on the table just there. The chairs behind them, however, were all vacant. Cosima fought the urge to leap up from her seat and chase after Delphine – it would have to wait until after class, until after everyone had departed. She itched, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.  
  
She lingered after class, waiting impatiently for everyone to depart so she could go after Delphine.  
  
“Are you coming, Cosima?” Alison asked her.  
  
“No, it’s okay. I think I’ll walk home. I, um…”  
  
“Right, of course,” Alison said, nodding in understanding.  
  
“Oh, _Cosima_!”  
  
It was Sarah Stubbs again, and to be honest the woman’s impossibly buoyant disposition was beginning to grow on Cosima. She knew that Alison loved her, too, although she would never admit to it outright.  
  
“Cosima, that scene that you did with Krystal!” she raved. “ _How_ did you come up with that? Cucumbers?! And the part with the leprechaun! I never would have thought of it. You were absolutely spectacular. Talent most definitely runs in your family.”  
  
“Haha um, thank you. It was fun, actually,” Cosima conceded.  
  
“It’s the power of _yes, and_! It solves everything. It’s done wonders for your scene work already. Oh!” she blurted. “We should all go for drinks now. Ladies?”  
  
“I think Cosima has some work to do tonight, Sarah, and I have to get home to Donnie and the kids,” Alison declined gently. “Next week, though?”  
  
“Wait! Did someone say drinks?!”  
  
Krystal appeared in a whirlwind of sparkly clothing, beaming from ear to ear.  
  
“Oh, I just had _so_ much fun with you all today! I’m just so glad I started with this class. Alexander is amazing, isn’t he?”  
  
“Isn’t he?” Sarah agreed. “You really should speak with him about his Alexander Technique.”  
  
“You mean _the_ Alexander Technique?” Krystal repeated, eyes wide. “He invented that?!”  
  
“Oh, no. Not _that_ one. His technique is _so_ much more than simply unlearning bad physical habits,” Sarah assured her. “I think it’s really the next great step in acting. But I can tell you all about it over drinks! Do you like Cosmopolitans?”  
  
“I _love_ Cosmopolitans,” Krystal squealed, linking arms with Sarah and heading towards the door. “ _Sex & The City_ is, like, pretty much my favorite show of all time.”  
  
“Wow,” Cosima said once they’d gone. “I think the universe might implode if those two start hanging around each other too much.” She chuckled. “Honestly I’m kind of looking forward to seeing them together after class for those Cosmopolitans next week.”  
  
“Next week, then?” Alison asked.  
  
“Yeah, next week,” Cosima agreed. “This doesn’t mean I like improv, though.”  
  
“Of course not,” Alison replied with a self-satisfied smile. “I’ll see you at home later?”  
  
“Yeah, sounds good,” Cosima replied, clutching her bag again.  
___________________________________________  
  
She pushed open the door to the kitchen, and relief flooded through her when she saw Delphine there rolling out pastry dough. A sense of guilt washed over her as she remembered the state they must have left this room in the last time – how Delphine must have had to pick their clothes off of the floor, how she would have had to scrub flour off of every surface, how she probably had to bleach the counters.  
  
“Hey, Delphine,” she said, and the woman looked up. She was still dusted with flour, still with that frazzled curly hair, still with her sleeves rolled up above her elbows. The only apparent difference was in her eyes. Dark circles had carved their way beneath them, and they lacked the fire they’d possessed just last week. A flicker of something played across her face as she took Cosima in, but her expression quickly went stony again.  
  
“Hello, Cosima,” she replied. She continued rolling out the dough, refusing to make eye contact.

“I, um… hi,” Cosima began, suddenly at a loss. “Do you have time for some coffee or something?” she tried gently.  
  
“I have a lot of work to do,” Delphine replied flatly, before glancing up and finally meeting Cosima’s gaze. Her expression softened, and Cosima could tell that she was having some sort of internal battle with herself. She contemplated saying something, but instead simply waited, letting Delphine arrive at her own conclusion. Finally, Delphine spoke.  
  
“Give me fifteen minutes?”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Cosima responded, perhaps a bit too eagerly. When Delphine gave her no further instruction, she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another before escaping to the front of the café to wait. 

As promised, Delphine appeared from the kitchen exactly fifteen minutes later.  
  
“Coffee?” she asked, detouring to the espresso machine.  
  
“Sure,” Cosima said.  
  
“Sugar? Milk?”  
  
“Uh, just black. Thanks.”

Delphine joined Cosima at the table a few moments later, setting two steaming Americanos in front of them.  
  
“So, um…” Cosima began, stuttering. “I guess I probably need to, like, apolog–”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Delphine said suddenly.  
  
“Um, what? Why?” Cosima asked, taken aback.

“I… I’m afraid I might have… _merde_ ,” she swore, burying her face in her hands.  
  
“Okay, umm… shit. Maybe let’s start with this,” she offered. “What do you remember?  
  
Delphine flushed crimson, but said nothing. Instead she reached into her pocket and placed a Polaroid picture face down on the table.  
  
Cosima reached for it, picking it up and turning it over.  
  
It was the two of them in Delphine’s bed. Delphine held the camera out at arm’s length, barely succeeding in capturing the both of them together in the corner of the frame. Delphine’s beaming face was nuzzled against Cosima’s cheek, and it seemed that the photograph had caught her just as she was leaning in for a kiss. Cosima lie on her back laughing, face tilted blissfully towards Delphine, her breasts fully exposed to the camera.  
  
“Oh,” Cosima exhaled.  
  
“ _Oui, je sais_.”  
  
“Well, I guess there were five then. Unless you have more.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Cosima dug into her pocket and tossed the four remaining photographs onto the table.  
  
Delphine poured over them, pupils blown wide.  
  
“I, um… brought the camera back, too. If you want that. And I sort of borrowed some clothes,” she said, taking the items out of her purse. “Don’t worry, Alison washed them. Sorry, I, uhh… couldn’t find my dress.”  
  
“I have it,” Delphine answered. “It was in the kitchen.”  
  
“I’ll bet that was a disaster,” Cosima said. “I’m sorry I didn’t stick around to help you clean it up. I sort of, like… panicked.”  
  
“It’s okay, and it was,” Delphine said, chuckling a bit. “There was flour everywhere. I basically had to wash the entire kitchen with bleach.”  
  
Cosima blushed.  
  
“Yeah, I sort of thought you might have to,” and they both finally began to laugh. “God, I am so sorry. That was all sort of, like… ridiculous.”  
  
“No, I’m sorry,” Delphine said, reaching out to clasp her hand. She felt them again – those tiny pinpricks – and again it wasn’t the right time for it. “I just wanted to be around you, and I didn’t mean to… I was not trying to… _merde_ ,” she paused, weighing her words. “I did not mean to take advantage.”

“It’s cool,” Cosima assured her, waving her off with a flick of her wrist and a jingle of her bangles. “It’s not the first time it’s happened to me. I get the whole ‘straight girl wants to experiment’ thing a lot. It’s not a big deal.”  
  
Delphine looked at her with a odd expression.  
  
“I never said anything about wanting to experiment,” she said.  
  
“Well, you did, actually,” Cosima corrected her. “Before you kissed me. You told me you ‘wanted to do another experiment.’”  
  
“I did not,” Delphine lamented, this time dropping her head all the way down to the table and burying it in her arms. “ _Mon dieu_. That is – _merde_. I am so embarrassed.”  
  
“Hey, like I said. Totally okay. I’d still love to, like, be your friend or whatever.”  
  
“ _Non_ ,” Delphine muttered, shaking her head.

“No?” Cosima repeated, confused. _Shit_ , maybe they’d already made things too weird between them. Was Delphine too uncomfortable to try and salvage a friendship out of this?  
  
“I don’t think I just want to be friends with you,” Delphine admitted sheepishly.

“Oh,” Cosima breathed, finally understanding. “ _Oh_.” 

“And I know that you just ended a relationship, but…” Delphine shrugged, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. “I seem to like you.”  
  
_Shit_ , Cosima thought.  
  
“Delphine, have you ever, uh… have you ever dated a woman before?”  
  
“Is that important?” she countered, seemingly a bit offended.  
  
“Well, I guess not. No, but…”  
  
“But it matters to you?” she said softly.  
  
Cosima hesitated, but didn’t answer. 

“Am I the first woman you’ve slept with?” she asked instead.  
  
“Yes,” Delphine confessed, staring down into her coffee.  
  
“Shit,” Cosima responded.  
  
“And you?” Delphine asked.  
  
“And me what?”  
  
“Do you sleep only with women?”  
  
“Guys, girls, whatever. I mean, I prefer girls, but sex is sex, you know?”  
  
“I guess so,” Delphine said, finally taking a sip of her coffee. She set the mug back down, absently skimming her finger along the rim.  
  
“And you only want sex right now?” Delphine asked, lifting her gaze and staring intently into her eyes.  
  
Cosima sighed.  
  
“Delphine, I told you. I just got out of a relationship,” she explained, even though it didn’t feel quite right. “I really need friends right now, and this is a really bad time for me to get back into anything serious. Like, I don’t even know if I’m gonna be in this country next month.”  
  
Cosima watched as Delphine tried to maintain her composure, but she could see her physically sinking into her chair. Could see the eager light go dim in her eyes. Could see a heaviness take over her as she stared down into her mug of coffee.  
  
And she remembered Felix’s stupid speech, about _timing_ and _fuck it_ and _missed opportunities_. But still, she wasn’t sure she could risk it. Wasn’t sure she could say _yes_ to this just yet.  
  
“But, fuck. I really like you, Delphine. Like, a lot. Like, more than I’ve liked anyone in a really long time.” _Maybe ever_ , Cosima thought, but couldn’t bring herself to admit it aloud. “But I think, maybe… can we start with being friends? And see where it goes? I think I’d like that.”  
  
“Okay,” Delphine agreed heavily, her voice soft.  
  
She didn’t lift her gaze from her mug.  
___________________________________________  
  
Cosima tried to make plans with Delphine later that week, but she was always too busy. She’d tried again to find her after the next week’s class, but had instead peeked into the kitchen to find herself face to face with a new baker. She was glad that Delphine had finally found someone and could have a night off, but she couldn’t help but think that Delphine seemed to be avoiding her. That she had deliberately scheduled this new baker for the shift after Cosima’s class.  
  
She’d gone out that evening instead with Alison, Sarah, and Krystal, which – while wildly entertaining – did nothing to alleviate the ache in her chest.  
  
Another week passed by, and still Delphine was distant. Still she was always too busy.  
  
“You, my dear, are an idiot,” Felix told her. “You miss her.”  
  
“I know,” Cosima admitted, sighing into the phone.  
  
“And you fucked it up.”  
  
“I _know_ , Felix,” she groaned. “And now she’ll hardly talk to me.”

“Well, you know where she works.”

“And lives,” Cosima added.

“You’ve been to her flat?”

“She lives above her bakery.” 

“Wow. That is massively cliché,” Felix commented. “Well, at least she’s not also, like, European or something.”  
  
“She’s French,” Cosima corrected.

“My God,” Felix moaned. “Well, you do know how to pick them, don’t know? I hate the French,” he added as an afterthought.  
  
“Of course you do. You’re English.”  
  
“Right. But that doesn’t change the fact that you need to go to her! _Fix_ this. I’m tired of listening to you moaning about it.”  
  
“But Fel–”  
  
“No, I won’t hear it. Go. Tomorrow. Talk to her,” he pleaded. “Colin’s home soon. I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Ciao, darling.”  
  
Cosima tossed her phone to the other side of the bed, pulling the covers over her head.  
  
_Tomorrow_ , she thought. _I’ll do it tomorrow.  
_ ___________________________________________  
  
She’d almost knocked, but when she found the front door to the bakery open after hours she’d elected instead to slip inside unannounced. She hesitated before striding resolutely to the kitchen, where she hoped she’d find Delphine.

This time, she knocked on the kitchen door before cracking it open. The new baker was there, hard at work, and Cosima’s heart plummeted in her chest. He looked up, and she was about to apologize for the intrusion when – 

“Cosima?”  
  
She whipped around to find Delphine standing behind her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “It’s not Wednesday, is it?”  
  
“No, there’s no class today,” Cosima answered, feeling a heat flaring up on her skin. Only a few seconds of interaction, and already this woman made her feel so irrationally _warm_ all over. It was absurd. “I, um, came by to see you actually. Are you busy?”  
  
Delphine opened her mouth to answer, but hesitated. She seemed to consider, worrying her lip between her teeth yet again, before calling out something in French to the new baker. Apparently he responded in the affirmative, and Delphine touched Cosima on the arm.  
  
“Come,” she said. “We can talk upstairs.”  
  
“I had no idea you could find so many French people in suburbia,” Cosima commented, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
“A friend of my mother’s. Her son,” Delphine answered tersely.  
  
Cosima followed her in silence the rest of the way up the stairs.  
___________________________________________  
  
Cosima was embarrassed to find that she hardly remembered the details of Delphine’s living room at all. She remembered the smell, though: sweet and floral, though not as intensely so as her bed sheets.

“Sit, if you like,” Delphine said stiffly, gesturing to the kitchen table. “Would you like anything? Water?”  
  
“Delphine, stop. It’s okay. I just… I wanted to come by and apologize for being a total ass.”

Delphine paused her bustling around in the kitchen and turned to face Cosima, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.  
  
“Cosima, you have nothing to apologize for. I’ve just been very busy this week, training Michel and – ”

“I know, I know,” she interrupted. “But I still just wanted to tell you that… I really like you, Delphine. Like, maybe more than I’ve ever liked anyone. Which is, like, so stupid. Because I know really we hardly know each other. But I do,” she insisted, arms weaving about with her words, bracelets clinking together. “Like you, I mean. And it’s awful timing, and I might not even stay in Canada, and it does kind of scare me that you’ve never been with a girl before. And that’s stupid, too, because human sexuality is fluid and whatever. Not for all of us, but for a lot of us, I think. I’ve always believed that, and now I feel like a total hypocrite because it still scares me. And basically I can think of all of these reasons that I shouldn’t be with you but I’m kind of starting to feel like they’re more like excuses, you know? And none of them change the fact that I _want_ to be with you. Like, it just feels right. So if you still want to, I want to see where this goes. I want to try this, whatever it is.”  
  
A smile played at the corners of Delphine’s mouth.  
  
“Cosima,” she began, but she was interrupted again.  
  
“Before you say anything,” Cosima stopped her, reaching into her bag. “I made you cookies. Because apparently bribing people with cookies is, like, a thing.”  
  
Delphine allowed herself a cautious smile. She accepted the container from Cosima, opening it and picking up a single cookie. She paused, inspecting it, before bursting into laughter.  
  
“What?” Cosima asked. This was not the reaction she had expected.  
  
“Cosima, have you tried these yet?” Delphine inquired, a mischievous grin on her face.  
  
“No, why? What’s wrong?”  
  
“Try one.”  
  
Skeptical, Cosima took the cookie from Delphine and bit into it. Almost immediately, she spat it back out. Delphine doubled over in laughter, nearly spilling the entire container of cookies onto the floor.  
  
“Oh my god,” Cosima spluttered. “I used _salt_ instead of sugar. Fuck.”  
  
Delphine still laughed, and went to fetch her a glass of water from the sink.

“How could you tell?” she asked her, accepting the glass and gulping it down.

“The cookies do no brown properly if there is no sugar. They were too white, so I suspected…”  
  
Delphine trailed off and shrugged, an impish glint in her eye.  
  
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist,” she apologized, still laughing. “Perhaps we should have gone with baking lessons instead of a bottle of wine that first night, after all?” she teased.  
  
“Maybe,” Cosima laughed. “But full disclosure? I was pretty okay with the way last time turned out. I just wish I, like, remembered more of it.”  
  
“Yes, me too,” Delphine agreed.  
  
“So, does this mean we’re good now? Like, the cookies worked?” Cosima nudged playfully.  
  
“Hm,” Delphine hummed, stepping closer. “Come here.”  
  
She cradled Cosima’s face in her hands, biting her lip again briefly before pulling her towards her and tilting her face down to meet her. She kissed her gently, exploring slowly.  
  
“You taste like salt,” Delphine observed, giggling.  
  
“And whose fault is that?” Cosima accused, swatting her playfully on the arm.  
  
“I think yours, originally. You made the cookies.”  
  
“God, I’m sorry. I swear I’m not, like, this inept in other areas of my life.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Delphine countered. “You are quite bad at improv.”

“Dude, not fair! You totally missed my good day. I fucking rocked it,” she assured her. “Sarah Stubbs would _not_ stop freaking out about how good I was. I actually started using that stupid ‘ _yes, and’_ rule, and everything just sort of worked out from there.”  
  
“Hm,” Delphine hummed skeptically, kissing her again. “I will believe it when I see it.”  
  
“You’re on, Cormier,” she challenged, grinning warmly before pulling her in for another kiss.

Delphine’s hands wandered up her sides, slipping beneath her shirt and tugging her close. Even sober and even this quickly, Delphine was exceptionally eager. It spurred Cosima on, and she pulled her own dress up over her head. Delphine unbuttoned her blouse, but before she could halfway finish Cosima had dropped down to kiss along her stomach. She lingered just along the waistband of her pants, flicking her tongue against bare skin and earning a soft moan from Delphine.  
  
Soon, they found themselves back in Delphine’s bed, clad only in their undergarments. Delphine’s fingers brushed along Cosima’s bra strap, but hesitated there.

“Is this too soon? Too fast?” Delphine asked, teeth finding their familiar home sunk into her lip.

“Yes,” Cosima answered. But she was grinning. She unclasped her bra herself and began to kiss down Delphine’s body. Delphine quickly removed her own bra, and Cosima brushed a thumb across her nipple as she traveled downward.  
  
“ _And_?” Delphine replied, a smirk on her face.

“ _Yes, and_ I don’t care,” Cosima finished, tugging Delphine’s panties down her legs.

She buried herself in Delphine, relishing in her little moans and whimpers. It was strange, how the details of her felt so familiar. She’d remembered so little from that night – everything a soft watercolor, a fading canvas – but now she found that the smallest things came rushing back to her with a photographic vibrancy. She remembered this.  
  
Delphine came with a cry, her hips arched up off the bed and her hand fisted in Cosima’s hair. Cosima smiled against her before moving to kiss at the inside of her thigh. She’d scarcely regained her breath before Delphine had pulled her up by the hair and flipped on top of her, kissing her desperately. She was sure that Delphine hadn’t even stopped trembling yet.  
  
She ground into her, moaning, and paused when she reached Cosima’s breast.  
  
“You have them… pierced?” Delphine mused, brushing a tentative finger over a nipple. Cosima shuddered. “How did I not notice that?” she groaned in frustration. “ _Merde_. I am never drinking rum again.”  
  
Cosima laughed, stroking a hand through Delphine’s wild locks.  
  
“Is it okay?” Cosima asked.  
  
“It’s different,” Delphine stated, toying with one of the cool metal bars. “It is all different, I guess. But I like it. Very much,” she assured her, dipping down to take a nipple into her mouth.  
  
“I want you,” Delphine whispered against her, and Cosima whimpered in response. 

Cosima would have suspected her to be frightened, or at least hesitant, but she was only intensely _curious_. Delphine was certainly one of the least experienced lovers she’d been with in quite some time, but it didn’t seem to matter in the slightest. Cosima would not have expected to find the experience of watching someone _learn_ how to make love to her so wildly arousing, but as Delphine’s tongue moved against her she found herself struggling against the tightness that had formed so quickly in her gut. Found herself unraveling beneath her, her thighs clenching around Delphine’s tousled curls, her fingers grasping desperately at the sheets. If it was like _this_ with Delphine already… well, then she could only imagine.  
  
And Delphine did, as it turned out, learn quickly.  
___________________________________________  
  
“Cosima, it is honestly baffling to me that you can _still_ somehow manage to be late to this class when you live _upstairs_ ,” Alison reprimanded her.

“Hey, isn’t it baffling enough that I’m still coming? Betcha didn’t think I’d last six months into it,” Cosima proclaimed proudly.  
  
“I didn’t think you’d last through six hours,” Alison teased.  
  
“Helps that we got a new instructor,” Cosima said with a self-satisfied smile.  
  
Alison shook her head in disbelief.  
  
“I still can’t believe that you convinced Felix to teach an improv class in the suburbs.”  
  
“I mean, it’s not like it was hard,” Cosima replied with a shrug. “He’ll agree to nearly anything that involves taking money from the suburban folk. And anyway, I think he secretly enjoys it.”

“ _Alison and Cosima_ ,” Felix called out, “If you would be _so kind_ as to pay attention to me like the rest of the class and stop your chit-chatting back there in the corner then I would be _ever_ so eternally grateful. Now, where was I? Right. We’re going to begin to experiment with long form games.”  
  
Cosima made her best attempt to listen, but not a few moments later found herself distracted by a warm whisper against her ear.  
  
“ _Bonjour, mon amour_ ,” Delphine murmured, tilting Cosima’s head back for a quick kiss.  
  
“Hey, you’re early,” she grinned.  
  
“I know, but Michel can finish by himself. I wanted to come and watch you,” Delphine said as she sat down beside her. “Since it is your last class.”  
  
“I know. Kind of a bummer, right? I’ll miss it here,” she said sadly. “How about you?”  
  
“I’ll miss you,” Delphine confessed. “But I think San Francisco suits you better. The suburbs… I do not think it fits for you.”  
  
“Yeah, totally,” Cosima agreed, squeezing her hand. “Fuck, I’m gonna miss you. Why do you have to hang back for so long? Can’t Michel and your mom handle everything?”  
  
“It’s only three weeks, Cosima,” Delphine told her. “They need my help. And anyway, I have to finish packing. I don’t believe that you have been particularly helpful with that.”  
  
“Hey, it’s not my fault that you won’t let me!” Cosima protested, a playful gleam in her eye.  
  
“I will _let_ you,” she argued, smiling. “I just want you to do it right.”  
  
Cosima shrugged.  
  
“I don’t see what’s wrong with just throwing everything in boxes and figuring it out later. Your OCD is showing, Ms. Cormier,” she teased, kissing her lightly on the lips. Delphine reached out to cup her face, pulling her in for a much deeper kiss, and Cosima let out a tiny moan.  
  
“ _Ladies_ , if you’re going to be present in my class then you can either pay attention to what’s going on or come up here and perform a scene for us,” Felix exclaimed in exasperation. “Preferably one that doesn’t involve snogging.”  
  
Cosima sniggered, and Delphine looked slightly embarrassed.  
  
“Well, what do you say? Wanna do a scene with me?” she asked, nudging her playfully.  
  
“Cosima, you know that I don’t – ”  
  
“Awww, c’mon!” she pouted. “It’s my last day.”  
  
Delphine rolled her eyes, smiling. “Okay, fine. Yes.”  
  
“ _Yes, and_?” Cosima said with a smirk.  
  
“I will perform a scene with you,” she placated.  
  
“And?” Cosima prompted again, a playful gleam in her eyes.  
  
“ _J’taime_ ,” Delphine replied, kissing her softly.  
  
Cosima beamed.  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
“Any day now, ladies,” Felix prompted with a roll of his eyes.  
  
Finally, Cosima took Delphine by the hand and led the way to the front of the classroom.  
  
“Merde, Cosima. I don’t know about this,” Delphine whispered to her as Felix began to ask the class for suggestions.  
  
“It’s cool, just relax and have fun with it. No one’s gonna judge you. And if you do, like, totally embarrass yourself, you’re moving to San Francisco in three weeks! You totally never have to see any of these people again.”  
  
“I hate you,” Delphine teased.  
  
“Lies,” Cosima responded, smiling broadly.  
  
Delphine kissed her again, just before Felix drew the class’s attention back to them.  
  
“Okay, ladies! You have your location and objective,” Felix announced. “You may begin.”  
  
As Cosima performed with Delphine – who broke character more often than not, who often couldn’t form words through her laughter, who stopped frequently to mumble incomprehensible things in French – Cosima couldn’t help but be struck by how _different_ she now felt in this room, with these people. Couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that, against all odds, this absurd suburban improv class had turned out to be the thing that had stitched her life back together.

Not that Alison was right, mind you. Not that she actually _liked_ improv.  
  
But maybe – sometimes – it wasn’t a bad idea to just say yes.


End file.
